


You Wombed Me

by AbandonStructure



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gender Bender, M/M, Magic, Witch - Freeform, bras are torture devices, derek is not happy which is nothing new, erica is too happy, not really a male pregnancy, scott wishes stiles would stop groping himself in public, stiles as a girl, stiles is not happy, stiles is worried about pronoun usage, the hunters are upset because they have nothing to kill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:12:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbandonStructure/pseuds/AbandonStructure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets turned into a girl by his ex-girlfriend who wants him to be the mother of her children with a stud of her choosing. Stiles is not happy with being the girl in the relationship. He also wants his dick back. Badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I kept reading male pregnancy fics and the logical part of my brain was like 'no, no, no, no, no - NOT POSSIBLE!' and this happened.

Stiles stared into the mirror.

A pretty doe-eyed brunette stared back.

He raised his right hand to touch his long hair, whimpering as the mirror image did the same thing.

The physical touching of said hair was freaking him out. He was deathly afraid to lift said hair into his actual line of sight because his peripherals were insisting the hair was really there. 

Stiles did not want the hair to be real. Because if the hair was real, the boobs were probably real as well.

Just the thought had him glancing downwards, his eyes closing on a whimper at the confirmed fullness of his previously flat, very male chest.

A new thought occurred to him, had him fumbling for the ties of his pj pants frantically, silently praying.

The pants dropped and Stiles was ninety-nine percent sure the whole campus heard his silent scream of mental anguish.

Oh God – his penis. His penis was missing, MIA, absent without leave – fucking not there.

A knock on his dorm room door had him jerking backwards, startling himself into falling because his pants were still around his ankles.

“Fuck!” He cursed loudly and with absolutely no remorse, swearing some more when the knocking persisted.

“I’m coming, I’m coming – Geezus Christ. Godamnit. Fuck.” Pulling up his pants, Stiles sort of wheezed as he tied them again, stumbling out of the bathroom in a daze and pulling the door open with an overwhelming sense of hostility at the world in general.

“What?” He demanded loudly and angrily, his anger disappearing in pure relief at the sight of Scott.

“Sorry,” Scott hastily apologized, staring at him in wide-eyed surprise. “I didn’t know Stiles had company and you’re not Lorelei. Does Lorelei know you’re here?”

Scott peered nervously down the hallway, as if the mere mention of Stiles on-again, off-again girlfriend could conjure her presence. 

“Thank fuck,” Stiles ignored Scott’s questions, reaching out and hauling him inside his room. Scott surprised yelp didn’t even register as Stiles slammed the door behind him, dead bolting it in place before whirling around to face a very startled and wary Scott.

“Scott,” Stiles started, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “I know this is going to sound absolutely batshit crazy, but –“

“Stiles?” Scott interrupted him, squinting at him with an absolutely adorable expression of pure confusion. “When did you turn into a girl?”

“ – I got turned into a girl. Wait – how?” Stiles gaped at Scott, who was wrinkling his nose now.

“You kind of smell the same,” Scott stated, rubbing at his nose absently. “But girly. Like…”

“I swear if you say flowers I’ll beat the shit out of you,” Stiles promises, brushing past Scott and heading back into the bathroom to gape at his reflection some more.

“Lemons,” Scott finished, coming to stand in the doorway, trying and failing to keep his gaze on Stiles face.

“For fucks sake,” Stiles muttered, catching sight of the dopey look on Scott’s face. “They’re boobs – you’ve seen thousands before. Stop staring at them.”

“They’re so perky,” Scott craned his head to the side a little, as if staring at them from a different angle somehow made them more magical. 

“Huh,” Stiles glanced down at his chest, studying it carefully for a few moments before nodding his head with speculative optimism. “Yeah, they are pretty perky. Awesome. I have a great rack. Nice.”

Stiles tried to keep his optimism up but his boobs suddenly reminded him of his penis and suddenly he was sad again.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, smelling the sadness and raising his head in alarm.

“My penis is missing,” Stiles replied glumly, staring at himself some more.

“You lost your dick?” Scott’s voice sort of squeaked at the last part and Stiles winced.

“No, I didn’t lose it. Somebody stole it.”

“Who?” Scott asked. Stiles whirled on him in a fit of anger.

“If I fucking knew who, I’d be out there murdering them right now instead of talking to you.”

“Okay, okay,” Scott backed up, eyes wide with obvious panic. “Calm down. Don’t freak out on me!”

“I’m a fucking girl, Scott! What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Stiles could feel a panic attack coming on – he was light headed and trapped and the air was getting thinner and thinner and he couldn’t fucking breath.

“Here,” Scott jammed something under his nose and Stiles ending up getting a big whiff of potpourri that had him choking for a whole new reason.

“Goddamnit, Scott!” He swore, coughing and shaking his head to get the gadawful smell out of his mouth. “God, that’s nasty. What is it? Where did you even find it?”

“Lorelei’s drawer,” Scott supplied helpfully. “She always keeps weird smelly things there.”

“Lorelei has a drawer in my apartment?” Stiles blinked in surprise, poking his head out of the bathroom to peer around the corner, padding out to stand in front of said open door. “How did I not know this?”

“I told you,” Scott stood behind him. “She’s been trying to move in here for months.”

“Geezus,” Stiles rubbed his hands over his eyes, mind tangoing with the whole new realization that he was in a borderline serious relationship and he didn’t even know it.

“Crap,” a whole new realization took hold, along with a vague sense of hope.

“Do you think Lorelei will break up with me for turning into a girl?” Stiles couldn’t keep the hopeful note out of his voice. Scott blinked at him.

“Maybe?” He hesitated before offering. “I don’t know. She’s kind of possessive, if you haven’t noticed. I’m not sure turning into a girl will change that.”

“One can only hope,” Stiles pondered, dropping his hands to his sides with a tired a sigh. “So what do we do now?”

“Deaton might know,” Scott offered. Stiles visibly perked up at the mention of the witchy doctor.

“You think?” He asked, ever the optimist. Scott stared at him for far longer than was appropriate and Stiles ended up flushing awkwardly under the gaze.

“What? Is there something in my hair? Did I grow a third boob? What?” A glance down and a tug at his shirt confirmed it wasn’t the latter. Stiles sort of lost his train of thought then, staring down at his boobs and feeling vaguely turned on.

“Stiles,” Scott interrupted his staring, his tone strained.

“What?” Stiles asked, jerking his head upwards but not releasing his shirt.

“I can smell you,” Scott tapped his nose pointedly before wrinkling it. “Could you just…not?”

Scott gestured at Stiles boobs and Stiles glanced down again, this time with a frown.

“Right. No fantasizing about my breasts. Got it. Can we go now?”

“Go where?” Scott asked, face faintly tinged with pink as he now refused to look at Stiles.

“Deaton, you idiot,” Stiles started for the door, opening it and jiggling impatiently when Scott simply stood there, staring at him.

“Well?”

“Stop jiggling,” Scott replied, voice strained. “It’s making your…chest wiggle.”

“Really?” Stiles glanced down again, admiring the bounciness of his perky boobs. “Damn, you’re right.”

Scott made a groaning sound in the back of his throat and Stiles glanced up at him.

“What? You’re the one who pointed it out.”

“Please let there be a cure,” Scott muttered as he moved past him, staring upwards with a hint of desperation. “Oh god, let there be a cure.”

“Amen,” Stiles muttered, locking the door behind him.

“Stiles,” Scott pointed to his feet. “Shoes.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Stiles was in no mood for footwear. “We’ve got more important things to worry about.”  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Dr. Deaton?” Scott called out as soon as they entered the office.

“In the back!” Deaton called out. Stiles went through the gate first, jiggling again. He was wearing a jacket and shoes because Scott was so girly about the weather and Stiles impatience was at its peak.

“Hey Doc,” Stiles entered the back with a nod, scowling at the way his hair swished over his neck. As soon as they got back to his apartment, he was grabbing a pair of scissors and chopping the damn stuff off. He didn’t care how pretty it made him – it was fucking annoying.

“Hello,” Deaton straightened from the cat he was looking at, frowning faintly at Stiles. “Have we met before?”

“Hello?” Stiles waved a hand. “I mean, yeah I’m a girl now, but seriously, I can’t be all that different that you don’t recognize me. Scott recognized me.”

“I smelled you,” Scott pointed out, sliding past him to stand next to Deaton.

“Stiles?” Deaton’s eyebrows arched in surprise as he looked at the former boy. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out, Doc,” Stiles jiggled impatiently again and Scott made a whimpering noise in the back of his throat causing Deaton to turn his head to stare.

“This isn’t exactly my area of expertise,” Deaton stated slowly, giving Scott another odd look before turning back to face Stiles. “Gender morphism is incredibly difficult to successfully accomplish.”

“Well, let me tell you Doc, whoever did this must be a freakin’ genius, because I’ve got all the girly bits if you know what I mean.” Stiles cupped his breasts pointedly and Scott groaned in actual agony, dry heaving a bit as he turned away.

“Squishy,” Stiles narrated, squeezing his boobs again and gaining a sick sort of fascination when Scott curled up some more. He halfway hoped his balls had crawled back into his body by now. If Stiles didn’t have a penis right now, Scott shouldn’t either. It had to be part of the bro code or something.

“Fascinating,” Deaton interrupted, his tone and his eyebrows making it clear he wasn’t the least bit swayed into the emotional. Deaton’s emotional states were eerily similar, but Stiles was starting to get the hang of telling when he was amused and angry. He didn’t seem to be leaning in any particular direction at this moment, except maybe faint disapproval.

“I’m assuming your penis is gone, then?” Stiles paled at the words, feeling nauseous.

“Oh God, don’t say that,” he muttered, eyes wide with panic.

“Say what?” Deaton was confused now, a subtle furrowing of his brow.

“Gone,” Stiles squeaked out. “I mean, it sounds so final. Like part of some bad country song where gone is synonymous with never coming back. And I want my penis back. Immediately, if at all possible.”

“I’m afraid it’s not the easy,” Deaton stated, walking around the table to stand in front of Stiles with a frown. “This kind of transformation can only be accomplished by a very powerful witch.”

“Fantastic,” Stiles growled. “So I’m assuming that means it’d take another powerful witch to undo it?”

“Perhaps,” Deaton was frowning in earnest now, studying Stiles in a purely clinical way. 

“What do you mean, perhaps?” Scott asked, recovered now from his ‘best-guy-friend-turned-into-a-girl-getting-turned-on’ fit.

“It may be possible for the spell to wear off on its own,” Deaton answered. “Or it could require a trigger.”

“Could it,” Stiles swallowed, eyes rolling in panic. “Could it be permanent?”

“Unlikely,” Deaton turned, heading for his cabinet in the corner and rummaging through it. “Nature requires balance in all things. You violate those principals like this.”

“I’m violating nature,” Stiles repeated dutifully, rolling his eyes when Scott snorted at that.

“Grow up,” he snapped before turning back to Deaton. “What kind of trigger are we talking about?”

“It depends on the witch who cast the spell and what they want,” Deaton pulled a jar of something out of his cupboard, shaking some on his hand before blowing it on Stiles.

“Ulgh,” Stiles closed his eyes, fanning the air in front of him with a cough before squinting at Deaton. 

“Definitely a spell,” Deaton confirmed, frowning at him. “And a very powerful one.”

“Fantastic,” Stiles’ shoulders slumped. “So I’m stuck as a girl.”

“Unless you can find the witch who did this and have them undo it,” Deaton confirmed. “Otherwise, you’ll just have to wait for it to wear off.”

“And how long do you think that’ll take?” Stiles asked hopefully. “A couple of days? A week?”

Deaton squinted at him a moment.

“A year,” he stated after a moment. “No longer than two.”

“A year?” Stiles and Scott screeched at the same time.

“I told you,” Deaton turned to put the powder away. “It’s a very powerful spell.”

“So,” he continued after he had locked the cabinet again. “Pissed off any witches lately?”

“Only my girlfriend,” Stiles replied absently. “We had a fight last night.”

“About what?” Scott asked, curious. Stiles and Lorelei fighting was nothing new, but the subjects of their arguments were varied, from politics in the middle east to pokemon to the mating habits of tree frogs.

“Babies,” Stiles reported grimly. “Lorelei said she wanted me to have her children. It came as a bit of surprise to me because, hey, we are still technically broken up and I didn’t really think are relationship is healthy enough for us to survive it, let alone children, but that’s Lorelei.”

“Batshit insane?” Scott offered gamely. Stiles shot him a sour look.

“Unique.”

“Which is code for crazy,” Scott translated, glancing over to Deaton only to find him frowning off into space.

“What is it?” Scott asked. “You’ve thought of something.”

“You said your girlfriend wanted you to have her children?” Stiles nodded and Deaton narrowed his eyes. “In those exact words?”

“Yes?” Stiles thought about it for a moment before paling and stumbling backwards. “Oh God, it’s Lorelei.”

Scott’s eyes bulged with shock.

“Seriously?”

“Fuck,” Stiles swore. “My girlfriend turned me into a girl so I could bear her children. Wait.”

Stiles blinked a few times before looking at Deaton.

“How exactly is this supposed to work, then? I mean, last I checked, Lorelei doesn’t have the required parts for the necessary half of the baby making process and the bitch stole mine. So…how?”

“It could be she’s infertile,” Deaton hypothesized. “And she chose you as her surrogate.”

“And turned me into a girl?” Stiles motioned to himself. “I mean, why can’t I be the baby daddy? Why did she have to make me her baby momma?”

“It’s possible she’s already found the perfect male donor,” Deaton mused. 

“So why didn’t she just take him and some other chick? Why am I girl now?”

“Attachment, maybe,” Deaton continued with his theorizing. “It’s possible she didn’t want any actual female involvement. Does she have possessive tendencies?”

“Yes!” Scott hissed out before Stiles could respond. “She wouldn’t let Stiles come play with me anymore.”

“Are you pouting?” Stiles squinted at Scott.

“No,” Scott sulked. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“She’ll probably be looking for you shortly,” Deaton went back to gathering things. “I suggest you get to someplace safe. Here.”

Deaton shoved a bucket of mountain ash into his arms. “This’ll help.”

“How?” Stiles muttered, grimacing under its weight and the unwanted pressure against his boobs. “I’m still a girl.”

“She’s probably still weak from the spell,” Deaton ignored him to continue on. “When she regains her powers she’ll gather the two of you together and probably perform a fertility rite.”

“Fertility?” Stiles sort of wheezed, his eyes growing glassy. “As in babies?”

“Yes,” Deaton answered succinctly. “Go. I’ll contact you when I have more information.”

“Go where?” Stiles muttered.

“I have an idea,” Scott stated, drawing Stiles attention to his solemn face. “But you’re not going to like it.”  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is the worst idea ever,” Stiles muttered, staring up at the house in front of them. It looked better now – rebuilt and imposing as fuck. Still creepy, though, even when you didn’t factor in the fact that it was occupied by a pack of werewolves.

“Come on,” Scott ignored him, hopping out of the jeep. “You’ll be safe here.”

“Physically,” Stiles agreed, climbing out of the drivers door. “Mentally? No fucking way.”

“Scott,” Derek greeted, walking out from behind the house. “What are you doing here? And who is this?”

Derek’s nose wrinkled slightly. “And why does she smell like Stiles?”

“She is Stiles,” Scott replied. Derek shot him a dark look before smoothing his expression over into his ‘dealing-with-women’ face.

“Oh put it away, sourwolf,” Stiles grunted, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket. “I need a place to hide from a possessive witch and her man stud.”

Derek blinked at him, genuine surprise unfurling on his face leaving him looking distinctly gobsmacked.

“Stiles?”

“Surprise!” Stiles waved his hands above his head in physical sarcasm. “I’m a girl!”

Derek’s nostrils flared again, confirming what his ears were hearing and his scowl returned as he looked over at Scott.

“How did this happen?”

“Witch,” Scott supplied helpfully.

“Crazy witch,” Stiles elaborated as Derek turned to look at him again. He smiled gamely at the werewolf. “What do you say? Help a girl out?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm totally working on this on the fly and I'm hoping to get through it in a couple of weeks, maybe less. I'm going to try and have another chapter up shortly so stay tuned!

The pack was out and about, doing their daily dealio, which saved Stiles from having to deal with them for the moment. Instead he was stuck with a scowling Derek and a shuffling Scott.

“Too many s’s,” he muttered to himself. He needed to start thinking less in alliteration. It was giving him a headache. Or giving her a headache – the whole gender pronoun thing was confusing. Was he still a he even though he was actually a she right now?

“I have a headache,” he rubbed at his temples.

“You are a headache,” Derek snapped, angry at the whole situation which Scott had happily explained. 

“Great, picking on a girl,” Stiles slouched back on the couch, clucking his tongue. “What kind of a man are you?”

“Stiles,” Derek growled, fingers curling into fists out of pure aggravation. 

“You can’t hit me,” Stiles pointed out, feeling a small spurt of joy at the realization. “I’m female.”

“You’re still Stiles,” Derek pointed out.

“With boobs,” Stiles informed him. “Want to see?”

Scott choked again and Stiles grinned in satisfaction.

“Would you please, just stop?” Scott gave him his best wounded puppy look. “You’re enjoying your boobs too much.”

“Boobs are awesome,” Stiles informed him. “These babies are the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

“So your crazy ex-girlfriend is a witch who wants to impregnate you with a man of her choosing?” Derek jumped back to the topic at hand.

“Right,” Stiles confirmed. “Which is why we’re here.”

“You want me to impregnate you?” Derek’s arched eyebrows were full of amusement and Stiles’ expression immediately dropped into a scowl.

“Go fuck yourself,” he sulked.

“I thought the whole point of this was for someone to fuck you,” Derek uttered, glancing towards the woods.

“I’d rather eat lead based paint,” Stiles wrinkled his nose. “I mean, seriously? Why couldn’t she have picked someone else? Why not Scott? Scott’s way more maternal than I am.”

“Which is probably why she didn’t pick me,” Scott pointed out. “Deaton said she doesn’t like other women.”

“So she picked me because of my masculinity?” Stiles visibly perked up at the thought, prompting Derek to roll his eyes.

“She took my dick,” Stiles informed him with an edge to his words. “I’m taking my pride where I can find it.”

“Your dick is gone?” Derek actually blanched at that, pale skin going paler, Stiles matching him skin tone for skin tone.

“Oh god,” Stiles choked. “Stop fucking saying that! My dick is not gone!”

“…okay?” Isaac’s confused voice had Stiles turning towards the door, blinking at him, shocked out of his panic.

“When did you get here?” Isaac stared at him a moment before twisting his head slightly to stare at Derek.

“Just now. Why is Stiles a girl?” He asked visibly and audibly puzzled.

“Scott recognized me right away, Isaac recognized me right away,” Stiles gave Derek a sour expression. “Why couldn’t you recognize me right away?”

Derek ignored him.

“Stiles got cursed by a witch,” he stated. Isaac’s brow furrowed.

“Into a girl?”

“It’s a long story,” Scott informed him. Isaac thought about it for a moment, eyes straying back to Stiles before he finally shrugged his shoulders and moved to sit on one of the chairs.

“I’ve got time.”

\---------------------------------------------- 

“Yes, but can we take her shopping?” Erica asked for the umpteenth time, bouncing happily in place.

“Hey!” Stiles protested, pouting because Scott wasn’t gagging at Erica’s bouncing. “Watch it with the pronouns.”

“You’re a girl now,” Erica informed him bluntly.

“Oh believe me, I’ve noticed,” Stiles stated drolly. 

“You need clothes,” Erica was grabbing his hands, yanking him to his feet. “And I need a shopping buddy.”

“So take an actual girl,” Stiles tried to get his hands free, but fuck Erica was strong.

“Stiles isn’t going anywhere,” Derek stopped Erica in her tracks. “Not while there’s a witch out there trying to get him pregnant.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“You are enjoying this way too much.” Derek smiled, a full on lip movement that was full of vicious satisfaction.

“It’s an enjoyable situation,” Derek replied.

“I’m a girl,” Stiles reminded him sourly.

“So we can see,” Derek agreed, not losing the smile.

“You’re seriously fucked in the head,” Stiles muttered, falling back on the couch now that Erica had released him.

“You can buy her new clothes, but she stays here,” Derek informed Erica, handing over the pack credit card.

“Pronouns!” Stiles yelped.

“I can work with that,” Erica agreed, swiping the card from Derek. She smiled at Stiles – all teeth – before flouncing out the door, calling out after her, “Isaac!”

Isaac rolled his eyes but followed obediently.

“So am I under house arrest then?” Stiles asked, grateful that he didn’t have to go shopping with Erica, but also concerned. Stiles didn’t do well in confinement. Stiles didn’t do well with restrictions, period.

“You want protection or what?” Derek asked, shooting the question over his shoulder as he wandered into the kitchen.

“It’s safer this way,” Scott tried to soften the blow. “Less chance of you getting pregnant.”

Stiles opened his mouth, shutting it just as quickly as a new horrifying thought occurred to him.

“Oh God,” he muttered, twisting his head to stare at Scott in horror. “How am I going to explain this to my Dad?”

\---------------------------------------------- 

Derek had a television and cable so Stiles kept his calm by watching Mythbusters blow a metric fuckton of shit up.

“Fire is soothing,” Stiles murmured, hypnotized by the flames.

“Lorelei,” Scott spoke, effectively destroying Stiles’ calm.

“Bitch,” he muttered, scowling at Scott. “What about her?”

“She’s here,” Scott sniffed the air again.

“Really?” Stiles hadn’t really thought about confronting Lorelei – not consciously anyway. Fact was, he was still kind of in shock from his abrupt gender transition. But the mere presence of Lorelei was enough to send him into a blind rage.

He was out the door, practically running, when Derek appeared out of nowhere, literally sweeping him up off his feet with ridiculous ease.

“Let me go!” Stiles snarled, wiggling like crazy in the dual hope that it would get Derek to release him and also give the werewolf a black eye for at least five minutes.

“Stiles,” Derek grunted as Stiles’ elbow made contact with his gut, his breath hissing out in an angry snarl.

“Calm the fuck down before I rip you throat out with my teeth!” The threat always gave Stiles a pause button, mostly because there was always the niggling suspicion that it wasn’t an idle threat.

Stiles reluctantly quit his failing, conceding mostly because Derek was squeezing his arms hard enough to leave bruises.

“Stiles,” Lorelei’s lips curled up in a happy smirk as she scanned him up and down. “You’re even prettier than I expected.”

“You!” Stiles growled, tugging slightly at Derek’s grip. “You fucking took my dick! Give it back!”

“You’ll get it back soon enough,” Lorelei promised, idly examining her cuticles. 

“How soon?” Stiles gritted out.

“Nine months,” Lorelei dropped her hand. “Or two years, take your pick.”

Stiles lunged again and Derek snarled before tossing him backwards into Scott’s waiting arms.

“Hold him,” he ordered, not bothering to glance back as he faced off with the witch.

“My, my,” Lorelei eyed Derek appreciatively. “What big teeth you have. I wonder if what they say about werewolves is true.”

Stiles quit sniping at Scott at those words, the two of them staring at Lorelei in complete and utter confusion.

“The bigger the teeth, the longer the –“

“Gross!”

“No! No dick talk!” Stiles insisted. “Not unless it’s my dick.”

“Dude,” Scott winced and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a prude,” he accused.

“How darling,” Lorelei interrupted. “The two of you really do make an adorable couple, but I have someone else in mind for you.”

“Right, the stud service,” Stiles agreed, the very picture of surly. “Dare I ask who?”

Lorelei’s lips bent in the most wickedly mysterious smile ever.

“You’ll meet him soon enough. In the meantime, I’m going to have to insist you come with me. We have a lot of work to do.”

“Uh, no,” Stiles shook his head adamantly. “I am not going anywhere with you. Who knows? You’ll probably end up taking my boobs next.”

“Are you sulking?” Scott asked, voice tinged with disbelief. “Dude, you’re a dude!”

“And she has my dick!” Stiles pointed out. “The boobs are the only plus side of this whole debacle.”

“Enough with the dick talk,” Derek griped, his annoyance level at its peak. Stiles was irritating enough as a man – as a girl he was borderline unbearable. “Undo what you did.”

“No,” Lorelei’s smile never wavered. “I like Stiles like this. She’s gorgeous.”

Lorelei’s purred approval had Stiles frowning in confusion.

“Thank you?” He hazarded after a moment. “Wait – are you saying you’re attracted to girls?”

“I could go either way,” Lorelei shrugged, eyes scanning Stiles up and down once more with a pleased smile.

“So…I could have had a threesome with you and another girl like, if I had asked?” Lorelei’s smile widened subtly and Stiles felt himself deflate a little.

“Fuck, man. This blows.” 

“Dude,” Scott shook him in disbelief. “She turned you into a girl!”

“Threesome, Scott,” Stiles motioned towards Lorelei. “Dude.”

“Getting back to the subject at hand,” Derek interrupted, his temper at its boiling point. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

“Oooh, bossy,” Lorelei’s lips twitched. “Me like.”

Derek narrowed his eyes, a low growl emerging from his throat that had Scott cringing slightly.

“The spell has to run it’s course,” Lorelei stated, not the least bit intimidated. “Either Stiles makes me a baby, or he’s dickless for a year. His choice.”

“No,” Stiles was shaking his head. “No babies. I’m not built for babies.”

“You are now,” Scott pointed out, so earnestly helpful that Stiles wanted to strangle him.

“Not helping, Scott.”

“Everybody just shut up already!” Derek lost it, snarling backwards at Stiles and Scott, eyes flashing red and teeth extra pointy.

“Oh, do it again, puppy! Do it again!” Lorelei clapped her hands happily and Derek lunged forward only to go right through Lorelei.

“Right,” Lorelei laughed at their shock. “Like I’d really come here in person. Werewolves are notoriously resistance to witchy magics.”

“Oh, fantastic,” Stiles grumped. “So you didn’t pick me because of my raging masculinity but because I’m human.”

“I liked your cheekbones,” Lorelei smiled at him. “And your brains. I don’t want a stupid child.”

“You are aware I have ADD?” Stiles pointed out. “Because that shit is totally genetic and you could end up with Taz the spaz for a child.”

“I can fix that,” Lorelei waved off his concern before sighing. “You’re not going to come with me willingly, are you?”

“No,” Stiles retorted, hesitating a moment before adding, “bitch.”

“Really, Stiles?” Derek was visibly steaming, standing on the opposite side of Lorelei all sulky because he didn’t get to kill anything.

“Fine,” Lorelei shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll catch you later, then. We’ve got time.”

She wiggled her fingers before just disappearing, leaving the three of them standing their in silence until Erica and Isaac returned.

“Stiles!” Erica popped out of the car with a shopping bag in hand. “I bought you bras!”

\---------------------------------------------- 

After squabbling with Scott and Derek and even Isaac, Stiles was unceremoniously dumped in Erica’s bedroom with all the shopping bags for ‘girl time’.

“You do realize I’m not actually a girl,” Stiles pointed out to everybody.

“You look like a girl, you smell like a girl, you act like a girl,” Isaac retorted, shoving him in the bedroom where Erica was waiting. “Quit being such a pussy about this.”

“Sexist!” Stiles screeched after him but didn’t bother to try and escape, knowing from past experience that Erica had no qualms about throwing him against walls with excessive force.

“Here,” Erica shoved a bunch of pony tail ties at him and Stiles stared at them, mystified.

“What?” He asked after a moment, shaking them pointedly.

“Your hair,” Erica motioned. “You look like it’s bothering you.”

“Couldn’t you hand me some, I don’t know, scissors or something?” Stiles stared at the pony tail ties.

“No!” Erica rounded in on him, smacking him hard enough on the shoulder for it to hurt. Badly. “Your hair is beautiful! No way are you cutting it.”

“Ow!” Was all Stiles managed by way of reply.

“Here,” Erica tossed him another bag and he pulled it open, falling off the bed with a startled yelp at the contents.

“There’s, there’s…” Stiles couldn’t manage the words so he just kept pointing prompting Erica to roll her eyes.

“Bras, panties, undergarmets,” Erica supplied dryly. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate thongs so I got you bikinis. And we’re about the same bra size, but I bought a size bigger and smaller just in case. Try them on.”

Stiles can’t. He just…can’t do it. He stayed on the floor, unable to move while Erica chattered, the gradual realization of the truth sinking in as he stared blankly at the underwear.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered. “I’m really a girl.”

“Duh,” Erica rolled her eyes, pulling him up off the floor with the ease of werewolf strength. “Don’t worry about it, batman. Being a chick is awesome.”

Stiles whimpered.

“How?” He pleaded, because he really need some highlights right now because, shit man, he had a vagina where yesterday there had been a penis.

“For starters, boobs,” Erica pointed out, thrusting her chest out. “This babies can get you pretty much anything.”

“Anything?” Stiles eyed her cleavage speculatively.

“Free drinks, free food, no parking tickets. Dude, if we can teach you how to cry on cue, you’ll be golden for however long you’re stuck like this.”

“Really?” Stiles felt some of his panic receding. “You think?”

“Chica, you’re smokin’,” Erica informed him dryly. “We’ll have the boys drooling in no time.”

Stiles pursed his lips because the idea had merits. He’d always been of the opinion that girls were awesome not just because of the cleavage. Girls were sneakier than guys and less prone to idiotic displays of gender stereotypes. Plus, he’d always been convinced that females had the unfair advantage over men. Men were easy, girls were complicated. They won in the jigsaw of life.

“It’s only for a year,” he reminded himself, silently contemplating the merits of exploring his girly side.

“That’s the spirit,” Erica pushed him towards her bathroom. “Now go change.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, there's plot. This won't be the greatest work of fiction ever, but it will have a climax and some post-coital cuddling.

By the twelfth hour of his girlhood, Stiles was starting to get the hang of being a girl.

“You walk like you have a penis,” Lydia pointed out, eating an apple while sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, well, up until this morning, I did,” Stiles replied. Lydia was being the nicest so far about him being a girl, namely she hadn’t assaulted him with girly products (Erica) or called him a pussy (everybody else).

“You’re not going to get anything accomplished if you don’t figure out how to swing your hips,” Lydia finished her apple, tossing it in the trash and wiping her hands before hopping off the counter. “Watch me.”

Stiles scowled but obediently stood still, watching as Lydia paced from one side of the dining room to the other, all perfect hip thrust and pouty lips.

“See?” She finished her strut, turning back to face him. Stiles stared at her for a solid minute before dropping back into his new customary scowl.

“I quit,” he decided, leaving a protesting Lydia to head for the living room where he could hear the television blaring.

“Dude,” Stiles slouched onto the couch between Scott and Isaac. “What are we watching?”

“Sports,” Scott stated after a moment, exchanging a look with Isaac over the top of Stiles’ head.

“Sweet. Man stuff,” Stiles grunted. “I need man stuff.”

Scott made a noise next to him and Isaac tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling while biting his lip prompting Stiles to sigh.

“For fucks sake,” he muttered. “Really? Really?”  
\-----------------------------------------------------

Stiles crashed on the couch for the night even though Erica offered to share a room with him. 

“I’m still a guy,” he’d pointed out with polite refusal. “And it’s really not appropriate. I’ll bunk with Isaac or Boyd or somebody.”

“No,” Isaac had informed him bluntly. “You have boobs and I have hormones and it’s too psychologically scarring.”

“Dude, I’m still me – still Stiles.”

“With boobs,” Boyd had supplied helpfully. He’d taken the whole ‘Stiles is a girl now’ situation in with a shrug of his shoulders and ‘it was bound to happen sooner or later.’

“So…that’s a no for you as well?”

So Stiles woke up in the morning drooling on a throw pillow to the sound of Erica crunching on an apple somewhere in the vicinity of his feet.

“I know you’re awake,” she informed him, shaking his foot with a complete lack of sympathy.

“No, I’m not,” Stiles informed her, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I’ve hit my head and this is all some bad parody of a transgendered Alice in Wonderland only with werewolves instead of rabbits.”

“We have rabbits,” Erica reminded him. Stiles opened one eye to glare at her.

“Rabbits that talk, not rabbits that you kill and eat raw.” Erica rolled her eyes at his pessimism before slapping his leg.

“Come on,” she straightened. “We’re going out.”

Stiles opened both eyes, rolling onto his back to stare up at her, the weight of his chest making him wince slightly in discomfort. He honestly didn’t understand how girls didn’t suffocate in their sleep from all the extra pressure.

“Is this an approved outing or a spiteful ‘in your face’ delio?”

“Bit of both,” Erica replied after thinking about it a moment. “Derek’s in a mood and you tend to make those worse, so think of it more as a survival outing.”

“Into the great wilds where witches wait in the bushes to kidnap you,” Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“Which is why our first stop is Deaton,” Erica tossed her apple. “He called last night and said he may have something that could make it harder for the witch to take you.”

“He doesn’t happen to have birth control shots, does he?” Erica stared at him for a moment in disbelief.

“He’s a vet, Stiles,” Erica informed him. “He neuters things.”

“You think if we asked politely he’d do that?”  
\-----------------------------------------------------

Through careful manipulation, Stiles managed to procure driving rights to Derek’s camaro.

Actually, Erica had given him the keys with a smile because she knew Derek wouldn’t approve. He’d mellowed as an Alpha over the last four years, but Erica still liked to do things like this in retaliation for how much of a dick he’d been that first year.

“I love this car,” Stiles proclaimed, shifting gears as they hit the road. 

“Just try not to crash it,” Erica gritted her teeth, regretting her decision immensely. She’d assumed because Stiles was such a careful driver with is jeep that he was a careful driver overall.

“Please,” Stiles scoffed, taking another hairpin corner and ear drum shattering speeds. “My dad used to take me to the defensive driving course in Las Cruz all the time. I’ve got one of the top scores.”

“For what? Kill count?” Erica hissed, closing her eyes as Stiles repeated his earlier maneuver.

“Please,” Stiles hit an open stretch of road with an easy smile, sighing with pleasure as he watched the speedometer climb.

“Stiles,” Erica warned him, eyes flashing amber seconds before the sound of sirens reached Stiles ears.

“Oh fuck,” he swore, glancing in the mirror and grimacing when he caught sight of the flashing lights. “Shit, Erica – why didn’t you warn me there were cops?”

“I was too busy hanging on for dear life,” Erica snarled in reply, glancing behind them once more as Stiles hastily pulled to the side of the road. 

“Whatever,” she decided, reaching over and unbuttoning the first three buttons of the shirt she’d wrestled Stiles into this morning.

“What the hell?” Stiles slapped at her hands until she flashed those amber eyes again, scaring him into submission.

“Girl lesson time,” Erica informed him. “Use your cleavage to get us out of a ticket.”

“How?” Stiles glanced down at his boobs before looking over at Erica. “Do I smother him with them?”

“Just arch your back a little,” Erica instructed. Stiles followed her example, grimacing at the unnatural posture.

“Now what?” He asked, breathing carefully.

“Bat your eyelashes and play dumb, flirt a little,” Erica instructed. “Do whatever you have to.”

“Can’t you do this?” Stiles asked, supremely uncomfortable both physically and mentally. “I’m not sure – “

“This is Derek’s car,” Erica informed him. “If you get a ticket while driving Derek’s car, he’ll kill you. Also, where’s your drivers license, sweetheart?”

“In my wallet.” Stiles froze for a moment. “Fuck.”

“That’s right,” Erica nodded, sing-songing obnoxiously. “You don’t have one.”

“Shut it,” Stiles snapped her way, rolling down his window after the officer tapped on it.

“Hello there, officer,” Stiles turned away from Erica towards the window, best flirt-face in place only to choke as he caught sight of the ‘officer.’

“Oh God,” he breathed, choking on bile in horror as he stared up at his father. “Oh fuck, oh geeze, oh God no.”

He was hyperventilating – he was dying. He’d flashed cleavage at his own father. He was going to hell – no, fuck that – he was in hell right now.

“Ma’am?” his dad shuffled uneasily to the side, staring beyond Stiles to Erica, who had reached over to rub Stiles back in what appeared to be a soothing manner. In actuality she was pushing Stiles downwards to keep him from sitting upright and speaking.

“Sorry,” Erica apologized. “My friend Stephanie gets kind of hysterical. Nervous disorder and all that.”

“I see,” the sheriff eyed ‘Stephanie’ for a moment. “You do realize how fast you were going, right?”

Stiles made a choked moaning sound in the back of his throat, totally not appropriate for the situation and Erica made a clucking noise in response.

“She’s just freaked out. This is her boyfriends car and he doesn’t know she borrowed it and he may just kill her if he finds out she got a ticket.”

“Literally?” Erica pulled a face.

“Maybe. He’s very possessive of his car.”

Stiles made another choked moaning noise, lost in his own land of horrors.

“Is there any way we could just not get a ticket?” Erica pleaded, all bambi eyed innocence. “Please? Stephanie isn’t supposed to be stressed right now. It’s bad for the baby.”

Ninth circle of hell, Stiles decided. Easily.

He made another pained sound.

“She’s pregnant?” The sheriff sounded surprised and Stiles instinctively curled around himself in response.

“I see. Well, I suppose I could let you off this once,” the sheriff eyed Stiles. “But I’m going to have to insist you switch drivers. Stephanie is in no shape to be behind the wheel.”

“Yes, sir,” Erica agreed, reaching over and unbuckling Stile’s seatbelt. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re sure she’s going to be okay?” The sheriff stepped back as Stiles blindly reached out to push the door open, stumbling out and into the hood of the Camaro in an effort to never look his father in the eyes again.

“I’ll take her for some ice cream,” Erica promised, walking around to climb in the drivers side. “I’m sure it will help. Thank you again, sir.”

“Yeah, well, just be careful,” the sheriff eyed the apparently still sobbing Stephanie worriedly. “And obey the speed limit!”

Erica nodded again before starting the car and carefully easing away.

“That went well,” she informed Stiles, sticking to the speed limit as they made their way into town. “You may yet get a handle on being a girl.”

“My father,” Stiles moaned into his hands. “Saw my cleavage. I’m going to hell.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------

Deaton was waiting for them when they arrived, standing in the back, one eyebrow arching at Stiles haunted expression.

“He tried to flirt with his father,” Erica explained, waving a hand in the air like it was nothing, ignoring Stiles horrified expression. “You got the charm?”

“Here,” Deaton seemed completely unfazed by Erica’s explanation, handing Stiles a necklace. “It’s a protection charm.”

“Like ‘don’t magic me’ protection or ‘no babies’ protection?” Stiles inquired, deciding that if he dwelled any more on the ‘encounter’ he’d go crazy.

“Like it’ll make it impossible for Lorelei to find you using magic. She’ll have to physically seek you out.”

“Perfect,” Stiles pulled the necklace on. “Do you have a no babies charm?”

“Not for you,” Deaton replied causing Stiles to blink, puzzling over that before dismissing it and moving on to Plan B.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to remove my womb while we’re here?”

Deaton stared at him like he was an idiot. Stiles sighed.

“Guess that’s a no.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------

Erica took him grocery shopping next.

“Even when you’re not a girl, you’re still the best cook that we have,” Erica informed him as she snagged a cart. “Since you’re going to be staying with us for a while, I want good food.”

Stiles sighed but obediently set to shopping, piling the cart full of protein and vegetables until the pharmacy counter caught his eye.

“Hey Erica? Can you go get some eggs and milk? And take the cart, I’ll catch up with you in a second. I just thought of something I needed to grab.”

Erica snorted but snagged the cart. “You do realize I can totally tell when you’re lying, right?”

“Just go.”

Stiles counted to twenty before zooming his way to the pharmacy counter, surprising the pharmacist into screaming at his sudden arrival.

“Where the hell did you come from?” She asked, glancing around to try and find the magical portal.

“The cereal isle,” Stiles replied. “But that’s not important – listen, you don’t happen to have birth control, do you? Shots, pills, invasive surgical procedures – I’m not picky.”

“We have Plan B,” the pharmacist replied automatically, still apparently shell shocked.

“What’s that?” Stiles asked. “Does it involve knives?”

The woman stared at him strangely, reality reasserting itself.

“No.”

Stiles deflated.

“Is there anything you have that can help me prevent conception? I’m desperate – I’m too young to have kids and my girlfriends psychotic.”

“Stephanie!” Erica startled him into jerking around. She looked from him to the wide-eyed pharmacist before sighing.

“Is there anything else you need me to grab while you’re traumatizing that poor lady?”

“Cauliflower,” Stiles blurted. “Lots and lots of cauliflower.”

“Right,” Erica snorted, shaking her head before disappearing again.

“She seemed nice,” the pharmacist stated, narrowing her eyes at Stiles, who was staring up at her blankly.

“Erica?” He repeated. “Yeah, she’s awesome. Scary, but awesome, and not my girlfriend. She has a boyfriend and she’s really not my type anyway. But seriously, help?”

“I can give you Plan B,” the woman repeated.

“What’s the success rate?” Stiles asked. “And what is it?”

“Pills,” the woman replied.

“Oh.” Stiles blinked. “Can I take it before I get pregnant?”

“No.”

Stiles made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything better?” He ignored the whining quality to his tone – he was desperate here and dignity was nothing in comparison. He was a dude, goddamnit. He did not want to get pregnant.

“Come on, Steph,” Erica reappeared, grabbing him and yanking him around. “Let’s get you home before you traumatize anybody else.”

“I wasn’t traumatizing her!” Stiles whined, wincing under Erica’s painful grip. “She’s a customer service person. She was servicing me!”

Erica snorted and Stiles grimaced.

“Geezus – you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Shut up, Sti – Steph.”

Stiles sighed.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Derek was waiting when they returned.

“Well?” He questioned, glancing from Erica to Stiles.

“I have an invisibility cloak,” Stiles held up his new necklace. “But no Baby Be Gone.”

Derek snorted at that one before moving to help unload the groceries.

“Do you have a plan?” He asked, easily lugging about half the bags up towards the house.

“Self-mutilation,” Stiles reported, grabbing two bags and grimacing as Erica easily hefted the rest of them into the house. “I’m thinking of stabbing myself in the ovaries and hoping all the eggs just sort of leak out.”

“Gross,” Isaac wrinkled his nose, already in the kitchen putting things away. “Can I watch?”

“Better,” Stiles informed him. “You can make sure I don’t bleed to death.”

“You’re not stabbing yourself, Stiles,” Derek informed him.

“Roe vs Wade,” Stiles blithely informed him. “My body, my rules.”

“My house, my rules,” Derek shot back. “Besides, do you even know where your ovaries are?”

“Somewhere,” Stiles motioned vaguely to his stomach area. “I don’t know – I’ll google it before I start with the sharp pointy objects.”

“No stabbing, Stiles,” Erica informed him, leaning against the counter. “We might eat you if we smell blood.”

“You’re joking,” Stiles stared at her for a moment before switching his gaze to Isaac and Boyd. “She’s joking, right?”

Isaac made that noise in the back of his throat, the one that meant it was a distinct possibility, and Stiles cursed at having a good plan completely fucked over.

“So what else can I do? Deaton won’t remove my womb and the stupid pharmacy lady only has the after option for birth control. I want an immediate solution! I refuse to have sex with a man!”

“You go girl,” Lydia stated dryly, entering the kitchen and snagging a stool between Isaac and Boyd. “What’s for dinner?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a virgin?” Derek twisted to stare over at him.
> 
> “A girl virgin,” Stiles replied. “I lost my boy virginity a while ago.”
> 
> Derek worked his lips, the question forming and melting as he struggled with his curiosity.
> 
> “Oh, God,” Stiles smacked Derek upside the head, baring his teeth at the resulting growl. “No, you do not get to growl – I saw where you went with that. Pervert.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no intention of even approaching anything above a 60,000 word mark for this. I like writing but that doesn't mean writing drives me any less insane. I've got like five other Teen Wolf stories bopping around the padded cell of my mental fanfiction vault. I'm hoping to just kind of slam them all out in the next month or about so that they'll leave me alone and let me do normal people things, like eat and sleep and watch countless hours of reality television.
> 
> So, between 30,000 - 60,000 word limit. I'm at like 10,000 now, so that leaves 8 - 10 more chapters, I think. Goals. Goals are good.

“I want you to bite me,” Stiles informed Derek after dinner. Everybody else was in the living room, basking in the afterglow, leaving the two of them alone.

 

“Becoming a werewolf isn’t an effective form a birth control,” Derek stated, not looking up from his phone.

 

“Duh,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I mean, born werewolf, right here. I got that. No, but Lorelei said working magic against werewolves is really difficult. So if you bite me and I become a wolf, then I probably won’t get pregnant and maybe my dick will come back.”

 

Derek sighed before pocketing his phone.

 

“A – you only have about a fifty percent chance of surviving the bite and B – what makes you so sure that me biting you as a girl will make your dick grow back? Remember – magic is harder on werewolves. For all you know, if I bite you, maybe you’ll be stuck as a girl forever.”

 

“Oh.” Stiles blanched slightly at that. “I didn’t think of that.”

 -------------------------------------------------

 

Stiles spent another night on the couch, waking up in the morning to Isaac poking him this time.

 

“Can you make pancakes?” Isaac asked, his eyes pleading. “Derek said he’d make breakfast, but all he ever makes is oatmeal. And he won’t let us add sugar.”

 

Stiles peered up at Isaac through bleary eyes, processing everything before sitting upright with a sigh, the sheet falling away sending Isaac yelping backwards.

 

“What?” Stiles started only to feel a cool breeze across his chest. Glancing down, he swore as he spotted the exposed nipple, angrily pulling his shirt up to cover it with glaring at Isaac.

 

“It’s a breast, dude,” he informed the werewolf, walking over his curled up form. “Get over it already.”

 

“But it’s not real,” Isaac whimpered, gradually opening his eyes, acting like Stiles breasts were the wolf and he was the prey they were trying to attack. “Like twinkies.”

 

“Right.” Stiles shook his head, too tired to even contemplate continuing this conversation. “Pancakes.”

 -------------------------------------------------

 

The pack successfully gorged itself before individual members broke off to their daily activities. Erica and Isaac headed down to the local community college and Boyd went to the mechanics shop where he worked, leaving Derek and Stiles alone with each other.

 

“You’re not going to disappear off into the woods and leave me here as witch bait, are you?” Stiles asked the second they were alone. “Because I’m not cool with that plan.”

 

Derek visibly fought the urge to growl.

 

“Okay then,” Stiles took that as a no. “What should we do then? Got any research that needs to be done? Or video games?”

 

Derek grunted, which Stiles took as a yes for the video games.

 

Twenty minutes later Stiles was kicking Derek’s ass at Grand Theft Auto, which was totally not the norm. Derek was annoying about video games, first because he didn’t really like them, and second because he was one of those unholy people who was naturally gifted at winning.

 

Which just made Stiles curious after winning the second game.

 

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” He asked, settling backwards, absently pulling up his shirt which had slid down again.

 

“You’re not wearing a bra,” Derek stated with a frown.

 

“Bras are torture devices,” Stiles informed him archly. “It’s like having a vice grip around your chest, constricting your ability to do basic bodily functions like breath and slouch.”

 

“It’s distracting,” Derek ignored his explanation.

 

“What? These babies?” Stiles jiggled his chest a little and Derek made a pained noise in the back of his throat.

 

“God, Stiles, I should have killed you the first time I met you.”

 

“If you had killed me, Jackson probably would have eaten you in kanima karmic justice. Besides, you know you secretly adore me. I can tell.”

 

Derek sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“What did I do to deserve this?” He pondered out loud.

 

“What didn’t you do?” Stiles replied. “Another game?”

 -------------------------------------------------

 

They took a break for lunch, sandwiches because Stiles only busted out the frying pans for mass murderers and dinner.

 

“So anything new I should be caught up on?” Stiles asked as they ate. Derek gave him a look that Stiles interpreted as ‘like what?’

 

“New bad guys, old bad guys – hey, what about the Argents? How’s the old band of former enemies? They’re still former enemies, right? We haven’t declared war or anything? I mean, I’ve been away at college for a couple of months, but I –“

 

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted, effectively shutting him up.

 

“We are not at war, there are no bad guys, and the Argents are fine. Chris honors the code.”

 

“And Allison?” Stiles was very careful with that one. Allison had had a rough time of it following her mothers death. She blamed Derek because she needed a bad guy and it couldn’t be her mother, but after Gerard, the truth had come out and left Allison a mess.

 

First her aunt turns out to be a sociopath who murdered eight people in cold blood, then her mother tried to kill her boyfriend to prevent them from seeing each other and gotten herself bit in the process.

 

And of course, the good little Huntress killed herself, leaving her daughter behind to the manipulations of Gerard, who’d played her like a master pianist.

 

After the walls had all crumbled, Allison had begun the slow process of rebuilding herself into someone she could face in the mirror. Broken up or not, Scott had been there for her. Stiles had been there for her. Heck, even Erica and Boyd had been there for her.

 

It’d taken eight months for her to approach Derek. She’d shown up at the house and asked to talk and while everybody wasn’t on DEFCON No-way around her, they were still wary of leaving their Alpha alone with the chick who’d been actively trying to kill him less than a year ago.

 

But Derek had told them to stay and the two of them had disappeared in the woods. It’d taken about three hours, but eventually they’d returned. Allison had driven off, and Derek had informed them all it was taken care of.

 

“Allison’s fine,” Derek replied with a grunt. “Why?”

 

“Nothing.” Stiles pursed his lips in a moment of silent contemplation. “You think if I asked – “

 

“No, Stiles, you’re not asking Allison to shoot the witch.”

 

“What about her father? Can I ask him?” Derek gave Stiles a look.

 

“If you kill the witch, the spell might become permanent.”

 

“Yes, but then nobody will be actively trying to impregnate me.”

 

“But you’d still be stuck as a girl.”

 

“They have surgeries to fix that kind of thing these days.”

 

Derek stared at Stiles like he was the devil and Stiles preened under the attention – it was nice to be appreciated.

 -------------------------------------------------

 

Stiles was expecting some sort of grand kidnapping – Lorelei sent her minions in, guns blazing, to steal Stiles away from his friends who fought valiantly and bravely to defend his honor.

 

It ended up being slightly more anticlimactic.

 

Stiles had to pee. He’d had plenty of practice with basic bodily functions over the last few days, so he had the mechanics down pat. It still felt a little strange sitting down to pee, but standing up, even for nostalgia’s sake, just made a huge mess that Stiles didn’t want to have to clean up. Again.

 

He finished his business, washed his hands, and was heading back downstairs to crash in the library and pray for some miracle to occur, when he tripped over the body.

 

“ ** _HOLY FUCK!_** ” He swore, his knees hitting the dead guy square in the chest, sending his last breath wheezing upwards straight into Stiles face. It was surprisingly minty, which was just perfect because it didn’t make the dead body any less dead, but it made sitting on him slightly more creepier.

 

“I didn’t do it.” Stiles glanced up from dead guy to find Derek standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a can of soda.

 

“If you didn’t kill him, who did?” Stiles asked, compartmentalizing and ignoring the fact that he was sitting on a dead guy.

 

“Don’t know,” Derek shrugged. “Deaton did some protection spells. I think he tripped one.”

 

“So Deaton killed him,” Stiles glanced down at the body. “That doesn’t sound like Deaton.”

 

“Maybe he was allergic,” Derek shrugged again.

 

“So now what?” Stiles asked, staring blankly down at dead guy. “Do we…return him?”

 

“Where? It’s not like he comes with a return address,” Derek sounded exasperated now.

 

“So are we burying him in the woods then?” Stiles asked. Really, at this point, he just wanted dead guy gone.

 

“Give him to Deaton,” Derek suggested. “I’m sure he’ll have a use for him.”

 

“Really?” Stiles’ disbelief wilted in the face of Derek’s most serious expression. “Deaton does…things with dead people?”

 

Derek shrugged his shoulders again.

 

“Don’t know, never asked.”

 

“So, why did you suggest it?”

 

“What do you think I do with all the bodies of the people I kill? Bury them in the back yard?”

 

This was news to Stiles because as far as he was concerned, Derek rarely killed people. The only person Stiles had ever seen him really kill was Peter, and that sort of backfired.

 

“Wait – you kill people now? Like who? The mailman?” Stiles scrambled off the dead body as Derek rolled his eyes before retreating back into the kitchen. “I’m serious man. If the zombie apocalypse occurs tomorrow, are we like sitting on ground zero? This is important, man.”

 -------------------------------------------------

 

Derek dumped the body on Deaton’s examine table.

 

“Interesting,” Deaton arched a single eyebrow. “You said you found him at the bottom of the stairs?”

 

“Yep,” Derek replied. “Dead.”

 

“I can see that,” Deaton pursed his lips thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side before turning and pulling some sort of magical fairy dust from his treasure cabinet. He blew it across the body where it hovered in a sparkly, rainbow cloud.

 

“Shiny,” Stiles commented. “So does this mean unicorns killed him?”

 

“No,” Deaton replied. “It means he was already dead when you found him.”

 

“You doubt my word?” Stiles brushed a hand against his heart, fake wounded by the words. “Ouch. I mean, I can understand with Mr. McMurder here, but little ol’ me?”

 

“I mean,” Deaton elaborated, “that he was dead before he even entered your home. Probably at least two days.”

 

“Zombie,” Stiles concluded, edging uneasily backwards. “He’s the first. There will be more. I knew this day was coming.”

 

“He’s not a zombie, he’s a reverent.” Stiles blinked.

 

“Like a puppet?” He asked.

 

“Probably a messenger from Lorelei,” Derek stated, sniffing slightly before wrinkling his nose.

 

“Fugly,” Stiles commented, poking at the dead guy, which just led to the collapse of the rainbow dust. “I didn’t do it!”

 

“Stiles,” Deaton sighed. “Sit. Don’t touch.”

 

“Rude,” Stiles commented, but obeyed, settling on his usual chair.

 

Deaton puttered around a bit more while Derek glowered menacingly and Stiles eventually lost interest in the complete non happenings in front of him.

 

“Curly fries,” he decided, head tilted back as he stared up at the ceiling.

 

“What?” Derek snapped, eyes never leaving Deaton’s hovering form.

 

“I’m hungry,” Stiles stated, straightening and stretching with a pop of his back. “I want curly fries. Feed me.”

 

“Go get them yourself,” Derek stated.

 

“But I’m not allowed out without a werewolf escort,” Stiles reminded him. “Otherwise I might accidentally procreate. Speaking of which, are you sure you don’t have any birth control charms lying around?”

 

“Even if I did, they won’t work on you,” Deaton replied. “Lorelei’s spell has precedence.”

 

“The crossroads of spells,” Stiles intoned. “Crazy witch-bitch got the right of way, leaving vet witch forever alone.”

 

Both Deaton and Derek turned to look at him, identical expressions of mystification on their faces. Stiles shrugged.

 

“Hungry,” he reminded them.

 

“Do you have anything else?” Derek asked. “Is there any way to get the message out of him?”

 

“No,” Deaton replied. “Whatever was animating him is long gone.”

 

“Seriously,” Stiles stated after a moment of silence. “Has she not heard of cell phones?”

 

On cue, the guys pocket buzzed, sending Stiles scuttling backwards with a high pitched yelp and an extremely girly lunge for Derek’s bicep.

 

“I believe this answers your question,” Deaton held the cell phone up, showing Stiles ‘Lorelei’ in big, glowing letters.

 

“Bitch,” Stiles breathed out, his heart beat slowly coming down.

 

“It’s a text  message,” Deaton continued on, reading from the phone. “'Do you like my present?'”

 

There were no words.

 

None.

 

Stiles didn’t even want to contemplate the kind of mind that would consider a dead body as a present.

 

“Is she…” Derek pondered.

 

“Yes,” Stiles nodded. “Completely. Lorelei doesn’t joke.”

 

“This is alarming,” Deaton noted, still reading. “She says you have 35 days.”

 

“Oh, goodie. Countdowns. I love countdowns. They’re perfect for sporting events and rocket launches, and deflowerings.”

 

“You’re a virgin?” Derek twisted to stare over at him.

 

“A girl virgin,” Stiles replied. “I lost my boy virginity a while ago.”

 

Derek worked his lips, the question forming and melting as he struggled with his curiosity.

 

“Oh, God,” Stiles smacked Derek upside the head, baring his teeth at the resulting growl. “No, you do not get to growl – I saw where you went with that. Pervert.”

 

Derek growled again for good measure, but it was half-hearted at best, more of a grumble than a threat.

 

“So…why 35 days?” Stiles asked Deaton in a tone of obvious suspicion that he wasn’t going to like the answer.

 

“If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say she’s waiting for ovulation.”

 

“Say what?” Stiles coughed, leaning against Derek for support. Derek growled again and Stiles swatted him again. “Dude, you’re like a wall. Stop growling and me and be supportive, damnit!”

 

Derek gritted his teeth, staring resolutely forward.

 

“What ovulation?” Stiles jumped his attention back to Deaton.

 

“You’ve been a girl for four days now?”

 

“Three,” Stiles corrected.

 

“Three days, then. That means most likely she’s waiting for menses first, then subsequent ovulation.”

 

Stiles cursed his vast mental powers as they readily supplied translation for Deaton’s science talk.

 

“A period? She’s waiting for a period? Please, god, do not tell me it’s me.”

 

Deaton obediently maintained his silence.

 

“Oh god,” Stiles blanched, his limbs collapsing down in a domino effect of destruction that only Derek’s superwolf reflexes managed to catch him before complete detonation, aka impact with the floor.

 

“Blood,” Stiles croaked out. “Blood out of my…oh god, oh no, oh geezus – Oh god no. This isn’t real, this isn’t happening. This is all a terrible, horrible, bad, bad, **_bad_** dream and I’m going to wake up. Right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed a Friday update because a) the chapter wasn't done and b) school. Where I teach because I'm an ESL English teacher which I was like 'hey, rewarding experience' a year ago. Now I'm just kind of this ball of growly optimism - like maybe I'll have some left over voice at the end of the day instead of screaming myself hoarse trying to be heard over hordes of children who never shut up.
> 
> I have dreams. Impossible, crazy dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No!” Stiles had yelped, slapping at her hands. “No naked, no spa! No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the longest chapter. :( But funny. And very not PC.

“No.” Stiles protests fell on deaf ears. Lydia, Allison, and Erica had grabbed him upon their return, cooing over him like he was some sort of delicate flower and Derek – the bastard – had abandoned him using the excuse of patrol.

“Dickface!” Stiles had snarled after him, struggling fiercely as he was literally _dragged_ into the house.

“Spa day,” Lydia had declared, hands going for the bottom of Stiles’ shirt.

“No!” Stiles had yelped, slapping at her hands. “No naked, no spa! No!”

“Stiles,” Allison had tried the coaxing voice which was the worst trick ever. It was soothing and relaxing and he knew it was a total con but it always, always, _always_ caught him off guard. “You need to shave. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

“You’ll look better afterwards,” Lydia had informed him, lifting his arm and wrinkling her nose at his dearth of armpit hair.

“I am not removing a single hair from my body,” Stiles had narrowed his eyes in his most threatening expression. “I am a dude – dude’s are hairy, damnit!”

“Batman,” Erica had shaken her head, clucking in totally feigned sympathy. “You have boobs and a vagina. You lost your man card.”

“Temporarily misappropriated!” Stiles had hastily corrected. “I will get it back!”

“And in the meantime, we’re going to make you the best girl you can be. Think of it as girl boot camp.”

“No!”

And the argument went full circle. Stiles still had his shirt and his panties, but Erica had grabbed his pants earlier after Allison had managed to pin him long enough for Lydia to apply a single wax strip to his legs.

He had screamed loud enough to get a sympathetic howl from – Stiles was pretty sure – Isaac somewhere in the woods.

“Save me, you asshole!” He’d screeched in reply. Weird choking noises had replaced the howl and Stiles was extremely offended to realize that Isaac was _laughing_ at his anguish.

“You know,” Lydia finally pointed out, “we aren’t going to give up on this and we have Erica on our side. She can hold you down and strip you of your dignity while we rip off your hairs, or you can man up already.”

Stiles had glared.

“I hate you so much.”

Thirty-six screams later, he was almost completely hairless.

_Almost._

“Get your hands away from my vagina,” Stiles uttered, deadly serious. “I said yes to the eyebrows, but you are _not_ pulling hairs so close to the girly bits.”

“It’s more sanitary, Stiles,” Allison explained lightly, a reheated jar of wax sitting on the bathroom counter next to her.

“No.”

“Please,” Lydia tossed her hair over her shoulder in a vaguely threatening manner that reminded Stiles overwhelmingly of a shark scenting blood in the water. The toothy smile only enhanced the impression. “Just wait until he has his first period. He’ll be _begging_ for us to remove it.”

“Wait – what?” Stiles felt his stomach roil and he swallowed to keep the bile down as he glanced from girl to girl. “What happens then? Does the hair…do something?”

Stiles had taken all the health classes in high school, taken one in college, too. He’d seen, well, not a _lot_ of vaginas, but a few, but as far as he knew, the hair down there wasn’t like the creature from the black lagoon. He was pretty sure pubic hair was just pubic hair, but Lydia had used the ‘P’ word.

“Ever had a bleeding head wound?” Erica was smiling at him and the visual imagery was just…

“Ulgh, god,” Stiles hunched, gagging. “God, fuck you. Fuck all of you to the fiery depths of the lowest hell.”

“Is that a yes?” Allison asked. Stiles glared at her.

“Just fucking do it already.”

Screams thirty-seven to fifty-five were even louder than before.

* * *

Derek ordered pizza and Stiles ate his while curled up in a small ball of absolute misery.

“I will never recover from this,” he muttered. “Physically, maybe – mentally? Never.”

“Nobody will ever recover from the mental scars,” Scott intoned, quietly picking at his own slice. There was an uncharacteristic amount of space between him in Allison. Scott kept eyeing her oddly and Allison kept smiling serenely in response, but dude – Scott had heard Stiles screaming from the _Vets_ office.

* * *

Days 4 – 18 proceeded uninterrupted. Stiles continued to be a girl and everybody else continued to make his life miserable.

On Day 7 his father had had enough of him dodging direct answers and demanded to see him in person, which had led to a very awkward encounter between the Sheriff and his new daughter.

“You have boobs,” the Sheriff had blinked at Stiles, completely dumbfounded. They’d ended up having their conversation in the vets office, mostly because Deaton could explain the Sheriff’s questions way better than Derek.

Derek’s answer for everything was ‘There was a witch.’

No elaboration, like, ever, because Derek apparently hated words.

“So, you’re supposed to get pregnant?” The Sheriff’s voice was pitched a couple of octaves above the norm and Stiles could see the panic roiling way in the depths of his soul.

“Not happening,” Stiles assured his father with a gentle pat on the arm. “I’ve resigned myself to girlhood for the next year. No way am I pushing a watermelon out of my vagina.”

“Birth is a great and glorious thing,” his dad had replied, looking faintly green and completely unaware of what he was saying. “There are babies after you give birth. Babies are cute.”

“Yep,” Stiles just continued patting.

“I’d make a great grandfather.”

“Someday,” Stiles agreed. “When, you know, I have my manly bits back and can go about it in the proper, non-witch fuckery manner.”

“Right,” the Sheriff nodded again. “You do that. Right now, though…”

The Sheriff had trailed off, staring numbly into space before abruptly standing and wandering out of the room.

“That went well,” Stiles gave the silent Denton a twisted grimace of a smile. Deaton arched an eyebrow in response.

“Indeed it did. Your father has my number if he has anymore questions.”

* * *

On Day 18 Stiles barely managed to avoid another Spa Day. Lydia had gotten that evil glint in her eye and Stiles had only managed to escape by faking a headache and hiding behind Derek, who was feeling pricklier than usual.

That was one thing Stiles had learned in the past two weeks – Derek in a prickly mood meant hell for pretty much everybody else. Apparently Derek was a sucker for girl Stiles because girl Stiles had gotten away with so much shit.

She got out of running.

Of course, that was mostly out of her continued refusal to wear a bra and the subsequent distraction plus the eye gouging that the guys all attempted the first time Derek had tried to make girl Stiles run. Even Derek had looked vaguely ill.

Girl Stiles also got to touch more things that boy Stiles did – books, Derek’s computer, the remote control.

Stiles spent a lot of his time in the library, reading up on the new and interesting things that could try to kill them later in life which he lorded over Lydia’s head because Derek still wouldn’t let Lydia touch the books.

Stiles didn’t get that at all because girl Stiles was no more or less destructive than boy Stiles, boobs notwithstanding. But hey, only stupid people didn’t take advantage of such rare advantages and book spelunking.

* * *

On Day 19 Stiles woke up in hellish agony.

“I’m dying,” he declared, blinking bleary eyed up at a hovering Isaac and Derek, the only two people who were currently home. “Just kill me now and put me out of my misery. I don’t want to live anymore.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Isaac gave him a doubtful look and Stiles somehow managed to find the strength to kick out, foot connecting with Isaac’s groin with a satisfying hollow thud.

“Geezus,” Isaac’s eyes rolled up, his skin leached of color as Stiles snarled at him.

“Suck it up,” he sneered, returning to his curled ball. “It can’t be _that_ bad.”

“Bitch,” Isaac wheezed while Derek winced in sympathy, patting his beta on the shoulder in silent support.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Stiles moaned.

“Good,” Isaac snarled, eyes flashing as he glared from his hunched position.

“Cramps,” Erica diagnosed standing in the doorway with a cup of tea and a sympathetic expression. “I’ll get the midol.”

“Drugs,” Stiles agreed. “Give me all the drugs.”

Day 18 consisted of one memorable puking adventure and half a dozen midol and Stiles taking Erica into the bathroom with him.

“Is there blood?” He asked, yanking down his panties, eyes closed tightly. “Tell me if there is. I can take it.”

“Right,” Erica sounded distinctly amused. “No. There’s no blood.”

Stiles had opened both eyes in disbelief.

“How the hell can something hurt this bad and not bleed?” Erica shrugged.

“Hormones?”

* * *

On Day 20 there was blood. Erica offered to show him how tampons worked and Stiles had actually turned green.

“No,” he stated calmly, rationally, with absolutely no hint of hysteria. “I quit. I quit being a girl. Don’t try to change my mind cause it’s not happening.”

“Geezus,” Lydia huffed with obvious scorn. “Grow a pair already, Stiles.”

“I would love to,” Stiles snarled back. “But I can’t. Not for another year.”

“Well suck it up,” Lydia’s tone was sugar sweet and lethal. “And use the pads.”

* * *

 

Pads felt like diapers and Stiles spent most of the day refusing to move, sitting on the couch watching Cake Boss and feeling sore and miserable and mad.

Aside from the whole being a girl thing, he wasn’t really sure why he was mad, just that he was. He even glared at Derek when he returned from wherever he’d disappeared to.

“What?” Derek asked, exasperated after a few trips in and out of the living room, Stiles zoning in on him every time. “What did I do? What’s wrong?”

“I’m mad,” Stiles replied. “It’s like a heat seeking missile rage. Every time you walk into the room my target sight fixates on you.”

“You’re not going to start throwing things at me?” Derek asked, looking more resigned than confused. “Laura used to throw things at me. Erica sometimes throws things at me.”

“No,” Stiles decided, carefully considering the option for a moment. “That would require too much energy on my part. I’m content with the glaring.”

“Okay,” Derek agreed with a shrug of his shoulders. “Just do me a favor and warn me before you change your mind.”

He said it like it was an inevitability. Stiles scoffed.

* * *

 

Boyd came home with a hot water bottle, left in his car by Lorelei.

Stiles threw it at Derek’s head.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, shortly after I started this, the whole 'North Korea is being a douche' thing started, which is more of a big deal considering I actually live in South Korea. So for a short period of time (about a week), I was kind of busy trying to reassure everybody back home that I was not in any imminent danger of blowing up.
> 
> I know exactly where I want to take the story I just haven't been able to get the writing to cooperate with me lately. That's the fun part of writing - opening the document, writing a sentence, staring at it for two hours before deciding you like it, and then it's time to go to sleep. Or eat. Or other biological functions.
> 
> I'm neurotic. I imagine sometime in the near future (hopefully) I'll have the whole thing finished and posted. So stay tuned!


End file.
